Another Night, And Another Day, In Pondicherry

Last evening, as I sat on my new 100 rupee chatai next to the sadhu, three unifrmed auto-rickshaw drivers emerged from an auto and asked me to come along with them in order to recover my pouch. I refused. I told them to bring my pouch to me, after which I would pay them for their service. The pouch, after all, has 1500 rupees cash in it. They never returned.


I did go to my bank before that - and withdrew all the money left in my account, which was not much, just 1100 rupees. Of this, 200 went to the auto-rickshaw. Another 200 went as a deposit to this Internet establishment. I spent another 200 on beer. And I paid off the tea shop and the cigarette shop - and bought some more packets of cigarettes. 


And I advanced Abdullah a sum of 300 rupees for ganja - but the guy disappeared, and has not shown up after that. Thus, in the late evening, I was cashless - and the booze shop refused me credit.


Now, I had been walking around barefoot all of yesterday, because my plastic slippers had been stolen, and the soles of my feet were hurting real bad. So I went alone to Beach Road, and sat down where I usually do, opposite the Mango Man. Now, this Mango Man came to me and returned to me my plastic slippers. Hooray!


But I needed some booze - and it was this Mango Man who advanced me a sum of 200 rupees so that I could drink as much as I do every evening. The evening passed off well. At the end, the food-stall where I usually buy dinner gave me fried prawns and fired chicken legs on credit - 110 rupees - and I ended up sleeping next to the sadhu, on my new chatai.


Sometime in the early hours, I awoke. And I went to Beach Road and sat down at my usual spot. Gradually it turned dawn. And it was very beautiful. Just one fuck-up happened - and some passing morning walker chastised me over my smoking of cigarettes. If such people do such things to tourists - then Pondicherry can FORGET all about it.


When the sun was high, I walked back to the Hotel Continental and picked up my bags. I wanted to use a toilet - but they said all rooms were full. But the sadhu showed me the way out - and gave me 3 rupees to pay at the Sulabh Sauchalaya on Beach Road. But it was an AGONISING experience sitting at an Indian-style toilet. When I left, I told the guy managing the whole thing that foreign tourists need Western-style toilets - and would be willing to pay even 10 bucks for a crap. As if on cue, a Big Bus drove by - on which were emblazoned the words: Pondicherry Tourism Development Corporation.


I changed into a fresh t-shirt and spent the day with my friend the saintly sadhu. Some decent guys joined us. We smoked cigarettes, and some bidis, too. We drank some beer. And some strong stuff, too. I had wanted to take a HOLIDAY today, tired after so many weeks of walking up and down, writing and writing, day after day after day. I had wanted this HOLIDAY to be a day in which I would smoke some chillums of ganja with my sadhu friend. And I told my sadhu friend many stories of the sadhus I have smoked chillums with - in Gangotri, in Devaprayag, and elsewhere. He enjoyed my stories. But he said that such smoking was impossible here, because of The Police.


I told him that The Police should be asked to regulate Road Traffic.


I told him that Drug Traffic should be Free.


In the end, I went to sleep high on alcohol. As did my sadhu friend. I awoke just a while back. Drank a cup of tea on credit from the tea-shop. Obtained a pack of cigarettes on credit from the shop next door. And then I walked and walked all the way here to write this post.


See you all tomorrow.

Fly Your Own Flag, Pondicherry! Take #2

Switzerland, a tiny, land-locked, mountainous - yet, extremely prosperous - country, is divided into 26 independent "cantons" - and the above photograph is of all their individual flags assembled together. (With many thanks to Google Images, of course.) 


These cantons are all "free" and "independent" of higher authority. The Swiss practice "direct democracy" here. Which is why the Swiss are proud to say that "no Swiss knows the name of the President of Switzerland."


The Swiss are a linguistically divided people - in one area they speak German; in another, they speak French; in another area, they speak Italian; and there is also a tiny minority of Romansh-speaking people - the gypsies - and all four linguistic groups have their full rights. There is no "Swiss" language.


The Swiss practice free trade. The Geneva Motor Show is the most important automobile exhibition in Europe - and the Swiss do NOT make cars. Instead, they prefer to DRIVE the best cars in the world. They make cheese, they make watches, they make chocolates - including excellent "liquor chocolates" - and other stuff they are good at. This is what we economists call "The International Division of Labour." This is the very opposite of "swadeshi."


Property rights are fully protected: Swiss mountain "chalets" cost Big Bucks. I found well-maintained properties in Interlaken that were over 500 years old.


And the Swiss HATE war - while they LOVE peace. The Swiss stayed OUT of both World Wars - wars that destroyed not only Europe, but much of the rest of the world as well.


The International Red Cross was founded by a Swiss - and his equestrian statue graces one of the crossings of the Fair City of Geneva. So, if you foolishly go to war and get badly hurt, the Swiss come and bandage you up.


I call that INTELLIGENT.


All Swiss MEN are armed and trained to fight. So no one wants to even try and invade Switzerland.


Let us now turn to India. In our recent History, never has there been a monolithic, centralised State. At Aurangzeb's time, the Maratthas controlled their areas. And to the south was the Maharaja of Travancore-Cochin. Hyder Ali and Tipu Sultan also had territories of their own. And, at the same time, there were British, French, Portuguese as well as Dutch territories - the last of these being the pretty town of Tranquebar.


In British India, right upto 1947, there were 652 "Princely States." Many of these were "Salute States" - their rulers entitled to "Gun Salutes" from the British, these Gun Salutes depending on their importance, ranging from 21 to 9. Of course, there were many, many Princely States without any Gun Salute recognition for their rulers at all, for many were small Thakurs and Nawabs of tiny principalities. Yet, all of these 652 Princely States had formal Treaty Obligations with the British Crown - agreements of "perpetual friendship." Some of these Treaties with the British Crown were very old, having been signed in the time of the Company, mostly by Captain Tod. Lord Mountbatten is responsible for all these solemn Treaties being violated. And, it is noteworthy that Lord Mountbatten ended up being ASSASSINATED. And as for his wife, she was most certainly no lady.


In the world of today, there are many, many successful "City States." There was British Hong Kong - but even the Chinese, who possess this city now, say "One Country, Two Systems."


There is Singapore - with its "authoritarian capitalism."


There are the City States of the United Arab Emirates.


Now, Pondicherry has always been a Free City - completely aloof from the Government at Madras, whether this was British, or it was Indian. Pondicherry has thus always been "independent" in this, vital, sense.


Now, the Central State in Nude Elly can well be declared a "Failed State." It surely cannot be called a "Successful State." So we might as well conclude that it is a "Failed State." This is inevitable - for History does NOT provide a single instance of a successful centralised State. The Ancient Greeks were "City States," too. The USSR collapsed most spectacularly. And there is Gibbon's The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Someday, someone will write The Decline and Fall of the Nehru-Gandhi Empire. Those who do NOT know History, are condemned to repeat it.


How must Pondicherry be politically organised? All you guys need is a Mayor - and I have suggested MOH Farook as the man to choose. However, and this is particularly important, all the "recognised political parties" of the Government of India's Election Commission must be disbanded. There is NO NEED for political parties to elect honest, responsible Aldermen, representing constituencies. Also, elect Two Sheriffs - responsible for Riot Prevention, and nothing else, and I trust their services will never be required in this peaceful place. No salaries should be paid to either the Sheriffs or the Mayor. They should be rich people on their own, volunteering for "public service." And, from now on, till Eternity, no one should be eligible for Mayorship without having served one term as Sheriiff, so that his sense of responsibility, his public spirit and his honesty have all been through the test. MOH Farook must be exempted - and he has anyway been a good Chief Minister in the past.


Taxes should be low, collected from Property Owners, and only these should possess the right to elect aldermen and sheriffs. Low taxes means The People have more money to save and invest. High taxes means more bureaucracy - more "tax parasites" armed with Rules & Regulations. Always avoid this. Learn from the mistakes of the present.


For the people, you should just have a "private law society." This comprises Property, Contracts and Torts. These laws "protect" the people; these laws are NOT "coercive" - unlike "democratic legislation." With Private Law, you will be Fully Secure. And you will also be Free.


Announce Unilateral Free Trade. Export into the Indian hinterland, and profit. Get your pier and your jetty into good working order. Try and develop a proper Port. You have an airport. Make it an International Airport. Compete with all other Indian destinations for tourists. 


COMPETE!


Most importantly, you will need Honest Money and Banking - and this is where even Dubai failed, most spectacularly. This does NOT require anything of the City Mayor or the Aldermen. This is the business of Goldsmiths - and I noticed an advertisement just this morning advertising Pure Gold certified with the Hallmark of the Bureau of International Standards. Change your paper rupees into such Pure Gold and have Private Mints turn them into coins. Of course, these goldsmiths can issue paper notes - but they must be redeemable on demand, or else. Gradually, honest Big Banking can emerge.


In other words, Gold Coins are MONEY. 


Paper notes are MONEY SUBSTITUTES.


There are three other areas under the control of the present Pondicherry State: Karaikal, just down south of here; Yanam, on the Andhra Coast; and Mahe, on a totally different ocean altogether, on the Kerala Coast. Chandannagore in Bengal, of course, has been lost. I suggest that Karaikal, Yanam and Mahe all be given Total Independence, so they can be Free Cities, too, and run their own affairs.


One last thing: It is an Ancient Proverb that says, "Honesty is the Best Policy." Yet, most people think this applies only to businessmen, because in The Market, it is well known that "Cheats Never Prosper." No shopkeeper who cheats his customers gets "repeat customers" - and so, he does NOT prosper.


It is my sincere belief that the Ancient Proverb, "Honesty is the Best Policy," also applies to the field of Politics. Ancient Rome collapsed because of Corruption - including Corruption of the Coinage. Ditto for the socialist, centralised State in Nude Elly. And soon, I predict, we will witness similar collapses of the US Empire as well as the EU Empire.


In Pondicherry, the people are certainly possessed of abundant reserves of "natural religion" as well as "natural honesty." You are all Very "Good" People. Make Honesty the Best Policy in Everything that you do.


And let the Lord Mayor of the Olde City of London be your guide. In 800 or more years, there has NEVER been any scandal in this Honest Civic Corporation. The area of this Olde City is even smaller than Pondicherry - and it measures just One Square Mile - but this area has always been "One Square Mile of Liberty." So, Capitalism of the British "John Bull" kind was born here - and, although these merchants never expanded their territory within London, they sent out Capital and merchant ships all over the world, starting with the Honourable East India Company, the Virginia Company, the Levant Company, the Muscovy Company, and so many more. This "One Square Mile" built The British Empire, over which it was famously said that "The Sun Never Sets." Of course, it has set. But that's another story, for another post.


The Motto of this Olde City of London is "Domini Dirige Nos" - which means, "Let God Be Our Guide." Which means "Let NOT The King Be Our Guide."


It means the same thing as the Azaan I sang here the other day, with my crazy Baba Pagal Nath Charsi twist.


In a Free Market, each Individual is responsible for himself, and has to take Independent decisions as to how and where he will invest and employ his Capital.

Capitalism Means Freedom!

Freedom Means Competition!

And the Absence of Competition is Tyranny!

Socialism means Officialdom - not Freedom. 

This is precisely where the previous generation went horribly wrong.


Pondicherry is a CAPITALIST CITY - with each and every street lined with shops, shops and more shops. Napoleon ridiculed the English by calling them "a nation of shopkeepers," but it was these shopkeepers who ruled the waves and ruled the world, while the French, a "martial race," and Napoleon himself, never managed to rule much.


Pondicherry is possessed of a "natural order" only because all are shopkeepers here. In parts of India where there are very few shopkeepers, like parts of the North-East, most young men take up the GUN and join some "insurgent group" or the other - and then, if some brave Marwari attempts to set up a shop there, all these boys with guns go to this Marwari and EXTORT money from him.


You Pondicherrians are a LUCKY people. You are lucky because you are all good, honest and hard-working people, possessed of "natural religion" and "natural honesty."


So go ahead and be FREE. Free to engage in voluntary and gainful Capitalist Acts & Exchanges with all peaceable STRANGERS who come to your markets. You will surely PROSPER. There will be PEACE. And, who knows, maybe your Capital, which you will surely accumulate much of, will enable you to conquer the world - in a peaceable way, of course. 


And May God Bless All Of You.

Another Night, And Another Day, In Pondicherry

Last night, the good boys did bring me the S & G song "The Boxer," and I felt good to hear the lines:

In the clearing stands a BOXER,

And a FIGHTER by his TRADE,

And he carries the reminders,

Of every glove that laid him down,

And CUT HIM, till he CRIED OUT,

In his anger and his pain,

I am leaving, I am leaving,

But the FIGHTER still remains...

Tonight, he should be bringing me "The Logical Song."


Last night, I did teach these boys something; after all, that is my vocation. I expanded further on what I had taught them the day before, on the "subjective" element, and I offered the example of ice-cream: how some people like vanilla, some like pistachio, some chocolate chip and so on. I also spoke to them about what "entrepreneurship" is all about: which is, investing your Capital in order to GUESS what the people out there want to buy. Entrepreneurship is nothing else - and this guesswork is entirely "speculative."


Thus, I explained to them why Central Planning can never work, for only a shopkeeper will stock umbrellas for you in the rainy season.


I went one step further, though: I told them why FREEDOM is so important. Because, if The State disallows you from investing in the area you want to - like, say, ganja cafes, or casinos, you are LOST.


Thus, I told them, Pondicherry is poor because some 70 per cent of businesses are effectively BANNED. And this is particularly true of Beach Road - the prime tourist area, where almost ALL the prime property belongs either to The State or to the Aurobindo Ashram, and the poor people have to ply their wares on UGLY, little pushcarts.


This morning, I came to the tea shop and encountered a complete moron of a socialist - and I proceeded to instruct him as to why Socialism Is Evil. I told him that we would not even get these cups of tea at 4:30 AM if it had not been for Capitalism; and that, too, Competitive Capitalism, for there were four tea shops open at that time. 


I went on to say that "society" is FICTION: that, in reality, we are all Individuals. Some of us who marry and have a wife and children may have families - but many don't. Some of us may have "friends" - but many don't.  And, I pointed out to the fact that none of us are "friends" of the tea shop owner - and that our relationship with him is "impersonal."


I went on to say that the CONgress BULLSHIT is ideally expressed in their slogan: 

"India Is Indira" 

Which means that the rest of us do not matter. So if Indira owns steel plants, hotels, airlines and all the rest, we are better off. This ideology is EVIL, I told him.


I spent the morning with a sadhu - and some strange guys joined us. One of them gave some money to the other to get some ganja - so that the sadhu and I (both Babas) could enjoy a smoke. But this smoke never happened. The police stopped it from happening - and the sadhu and I drank BEER. Imagine that! A sadhu drinking beer.


And then, I began walking down the road to this Internet place where I work every day. En route, I stopped to eat some lunch at a roadside stall: some excellent beef, as well as some excellent eggs, all together for just 30 rupees. I told the vendor that she was engaged in "social service" - by feeding poor people, like me. At least I do NOT need cheap UNCOOKED rice from The State. I need cheap, cooked food on the streets. I then asked this vendor why she did not put up her stall on Beach Road. And she said: 

"The Police Stop Us."

I told them, both the guy who was to get the ganja, as well as this woman who was selling me beef and eggs, that they must FIGHT the fuckin' police. 

To the Death, if necessary.

These "tax parasites" MUST be put in their place. 

FREEDOM!

In truth, a Police FORCE like the kind we have is totally unnecessary. In fact, police forces like this are PURE EVIL.


If we make ours a "private law society," then the only crimes are "crimes against individuals," and then the "convicted criminal" must financially compensate his "victim." There is no jail. And victims get JUSTICE.

JUSTICE!

We need to FIGHT for both FREEDOM

as well as

JUSTICE

today.

Random Conversations Here In Pondicherry: Take #2

Nigel Ashford's excellent essay from The Freeman, titled "Spontaneous Order: Freedom Creates Order In Society," which was linked by my good friend Professor Christopher Lingle on his blog, Natural Order, reminded me of a conversation I had with these two young lads on Beach Road last evening, as I sat there, as I usually do every evening, drinking fine, light, European beer, perfectly chilled. Last night it was Carlsberg: By Appointment to The Royal Danish Court. Hamlet's beer.


One of these lads was, of course, Arun Prakash Rao, whom I have mentioned to you earlier, the young HDFC Bank employee who has taken a fascination for me, and the other was a friend of his who had met me the previous evening too, on which occasion I had advised him to listen to the old Simon & Garfunkel song, "I am a Rock." This good fellow not only followed my advice, he also took out his mobile phone and played it - and I had a VERY GOOD TIME hearing this very old song once again. After that, I advised him to hear "The Boxer," and I trust that this evening he will play this song for me on his mobile phone.


Anyway, what else do young lads talk about to an old lad - but girls, and their problems with finding one for themselves. My advice to them was as follows: Don't think of what YOU want; think of what the girl wants.


I then pointed to the pushcart opposite us, on which this sweet old man sells this excellent sliced mango, sliced in a very artistic way, that too, and upon which he loads major quantities of salty chilly powder - and I often buy this from him, for just 10 rupees, that too, though last night I could not do so, being broke. The two big bottles of Carlsberg had been supplied to me by my hotel, on credit. That is, credit without a credit card, about which more, later.


I told these young lads, when we go to this mango vendor, we do NOT tell him that we DEMAND his mango. Instead, we POLITELY inquire as to what HE DEMANDS for his mango slices. And so, it is the same with girls. Some might want a rich man with a big car. Some might want something else, like an artistic soul who is petrified of white mice. Some might want a brave warrior with a Mighty Phallus, capable of lopping off a Tiger's Head with one one-handed blow of his khukri. And so on. It is all very "subjective," I told them.


And so, I told these good fellows, you guys go on googling all the girls you come across, for "there is plenty of fish in the sea," and surely you will succeed, and find one who wants YOU, because The Holy Bible tells us: 

"Seek and Ye shall Find."

And this PRINCIPLE, I told these lads, of asking the other what he or she wants in exchange for what we want, is as old as Adam Smith. It is this, I told them, that creates PEACE, that creates CIVILISATION - and I urge you all to read Nigel's essay from The Freeman linked above for a longer and more scholarly exposition of this PRINCIPLE.


This morning, as usual, I arrived at the tea shop where I always drink my tea, every morning, and every evening, too. I have been a regular, paying customer of this establishment for quite a few weeks now, but for the past two days I am drinking my tea on credit: that is, credit without a credit card. I have obtained this credit because I am considered credit worthy by the owner of this establishment. 


There is another, important lesson in this: 


If private bankers are in charge of credit allocation, they will be very PRUDENT about whom to allocate credit to, and they will carefully scrutinise the credit-worthiness of those who seek loans from them, and all will be well, and there will be very few defaulters, unlike our PUBLIC SECTOR BANKS, whose balance sheets are loaded with Non Performing Assets: NPAs. These are all DUD LOANS - to "friends" of The Establishment.


Hayek said:

Prudent
Private Bankers 
are the 
Overseers 
of the 
Market Economy

As I sat on the bench sipping my tea, and I had to drink three to clear my head from all the whiskey I drank in my hotel (on credit) after returning from the beach last night, a tough young lad sat across me, along with his equally tough-looking friend, who sat alongside me, and we entered into conversation after I inquired if they were sportsmen. Turned out they were volleyball players from Hyderabad - and I praised this excellent sport, ideal for the poor, for it requires zero equipment, and even girls can play it.


Our conversation then turned to Hyderabad - and I praised this lovely city where I lived for a year long ago, I praised its rocky, undulating terrain, with lovely lakes scattered all over, its excellent weather, with soft, light rain, the lovely grapes that grew there, although there is NO wine - and they were quite charmed.


But I was smoking cigarettes with my tea, cigarettes obtained by mortgaging my mobile phone yesterday - and these sportsmen expressed concern about the fact that, to them, I appeared to be a "chain smoker."


And so, I told them something about the History of Hyderabad: That the last Nizam of Hyderabad chain-smoked locally-made cheroots. They were not aware of this historical fact, and so wanted to learn more from me about their own History. And so I told them some more. Like how when this Nizam washed his collection of pearls, the entire roof of his palace was covered by pearls drying in the sun. I told them that this Nizam had a khoofia police - who were Turks who mingled with the people in mufti in order to overhear conversations that might be of plans to create trouble. He had no other Police Force, of the kind we have today. And then, I told them that Nehru had this good Nizam EVICTED by Police Action. I told them that Sardar Patel had 652 of these well-governed "Princely States" handed over to the IAS and IPS  - with the active collaboration of Lord Mountbatten. After that, they went away, after shaking my hand most affectionately.


As I said, I needed a lot of tea to clear my head of last night's whiskey overdose, and over the second glass, I found a tough, middle-aged Gurkha alongside me. I asked him if he was a Gurkha - and he very proudly replied in the affirmative, adding that HITLER once confessed to being scared of Gurkhas. I had not heard that one before! I told him that I studied in Kurseong, Darjeeling, with Gurkhas - but this fellow was from Nepal.


And so, we discussed Nepal - and what a LOVELY place Kathmandu was in the Old Days, when the Good King Birendra ruled, when there was Freak Street, where the Menu Cards of the restaurants read:

Tea

Hash Tea

Coffee

Hash Coffee

Omlette

Hash Omlette

and so on...

I told him I went on a great LSD trip in Kathmandu during those Good Old Days. And we discussed how Kathmandu is such a LOVELY city - with tram cars, with Toyota taxis, with Japanese motorcycles tourists could hire long, long before such bikes were seen in India, and even a casino in The Oberoi Soaltee. In India, those days, all we had was the Jawa 250cc and the Bullet 350cc.


And, even today, there is no casino in any Oberoi Hotel throughout India - and they started off in Simla, with The Clark's.


I told him Kathmandu was a better city that Simla, Mussorie, or Darjeeling - and it has an airport. And he said: INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT.


And then, I asked this good Gurkha, whose name turned out to be Prem, which means "Love," what he was doing here in Pondicherry. Turned out, to my horror, that he works as a peon for the State here. And that his wife and kids are back home, tending their farm. I told him to QUIT, to return, and to FIGHT FOR FREEDOM.


And then, I began walking towards this air-conditioned Internet outlet where I have been working, every morning, and every evening, too. For all these weeks, I have been a regular, paying customer. But for the past two days it is on credit without a credit card. But with the good man who runs this establishment, a good man with the good name Germain, I mortgaged a copy of George Charles Roche III's Frederic Bastiat: A Man Alone, a book that is out of print, and which I obtained second-hand via the Internet long ago, at considerable expense. I advised him to read the book, written by a former US Marine Officer, who was also a good friend of Lew Rockwell, and who is now dead.


But this man is now hassling me over his dues. So I am taking this book back.


Now, today happens to be SUNDAY - and on this happy day, there is Sunday Bazaar outside on the street. And vendors have their wares on display on the ground, and the guy right outside this Internet establishment is selling OLD BOOKS.


So, I am now going to sell George Charles Roche III's Frederic Bastiat: A Man Alone right outside, on the pavement, and, with the proceeds, clear all my dues, and hopefully even recover my mobile phone from the cigarette vendor nearby, whom I owe 250 rupees.


Wish Me Luck!

On Civic Pride, Civic Consciousness & "Politics"

This is especially for all you good, hard-working, enterprising people of Pondicherry, all endowed with vast quantities of "natural religion" and "natural honesty" - but there are lessons in this for the rest of India, and also for the rest of the world.


Let us begin with MOH Farook, the prominent and well-established Muslim trader of this pretty, little town, this "little Gaulish village," a CONgressman, who was Chief Minister here in 1985, while I was an Officer of The Indian Police Service posted here, and who instructed me in these following words:

No one can be forbidden to drink alcohol in public in Pondicherry.

MOH Farook, the CONgressman, is now Governor of Jharkhand!


He is lording over the City of Ranchi - and he does NOT own any shops in the City of Ranchi.


And why is MOH Farook in Ranchi today?


Because the CONgress is a "political organisation." And there are "transfers and postings" in this political organisation.


But this is NOT "politics." It is best called "Roving Banditry."


What is "politics"? 


Well, I discussed this in an earlier SPIKE, but I will reiterate some of the essential points below:


As Professor Bernard Crick wrote in his In Defence of Politics, after "making some OLD PLATITUDES PREGNANT," and these old platitudes are all from Ancient Greece, a civilisation based on "City States," in which "politics" existed, perhaps, only in Athens, for this sort of "human activity" certainly did not exist in  neighbouring Sparta, that:

POLITICS ARE THE PUBLIC ACTIONS OF FREE PEOPLE

"Politics" is a Greek word, with its root in the word polis, which means "city." So Persepolis was the City of the Persians, and so on. Aristotle wrote a volume titled Politics. And there is nothing in this ancient philosophical treatise that has anything to do with "political organisation."


In India, each and every "political organisation" is CORRUPT. This is UNDENIABLE. People join these organisations, in which they invariably kiss the butt of some "leader," only to occupy public offices that enable them to Loot the Treasury, that enable them to Harass the Citizenry with Legislation, with Subordinate Legislation, and with Rules & Regulations that are enforced by a CORRUPT BUREAUCRACY.


And they use an Indian word for this: Rajneeti. This Indian word, rajneeti, has no relation with the Greek word politics. No relation at all. They mean completely different things.


In the meanwhile, throughout the length and breadth of this vast sub-continental sized nation, a nation with many, many METROPOLISES, a nation with hundreds and hundreds of CITIES, and with thousands and thousands of TOWNS - there is COMPLETE AND TOTAL URBAN DISASTER.


And this, too, is UNDENIABLE.


In India, we do NOT possess any free, civic institutions to administer our urban areas, and we therefore do not possess any CIVIC PRIDE, nor do we possess any CIVIC CONSCIOUSNESS.


And the political organisation of the CONgress has "transferred" MOH Farook out of Pondicherry, a city in which this gentleman owns many BIG SHOPS, and has sent him to Jharkhand as Governor, a province that is full of DENSE JUNGLE, and there are lots and lots of WILD TIGERS as well as WILD ELEPHANTS in these dense jungles of Jharkhand. And there are Armed Maoist Guerillas there, too.


It seems to me that MOH Farook has accepted a VERY DANGEROUS PLACE to lord over.


Imagine that: 

From being King of a Fair City to being King of the Jungle.

Like Tarzan, the Ape Man.

Doesn't make much SENSE to me.


Does it make any SENSE to you, all you good, hard-working, enterprising people of Pondicherry, all endowed with vast quantities of "natural religion" and "natural honesty"?


Surely, this MAKES NO SENSE AT ALL.


And they call ME - The Baba PAGAL Nath Charsi.


Like the Oracle of Delphi once pronounced Socrates the Wisest Man in Athens.


And poor ol' Socrates expressed "surprise and shock" when he heard this.


In Pondicherry, you good people need CIVIC PRIDE as well as CIVIC CONSCIOUSNESS. This is a tiny, little city. And it is a pretty, little city. And it is being DESTROYED. It is getting UGLY, and even UGLIER, and maybe, someday in the near future, if you good people of Pondicherry do not take some positive, well thought out steps, this city will become UGLIEST - just as Bombay, and Calcutta, and Nude Elly, too, have all turned into UGLIEST.


There is GARBAGE all over Pondicherry.


The footpaths are BROKEN - even on Jawaharlal Nehru Street, right outside The Grand Bazaar.


There is a lot of difference between the pretty "beach shacks" of Sunny Goa and the UGLY little carts of the poor vendors on Beach Road.


But, I sincerely believe, Pondicherry has FAR MORE POTENTIAL than Sunny Goa.


In Sunny Goa, all the beaches are "villages." And there is the horrible Coastal Zone Regulation Act in place - so these can NEVER EVER become towns. And in Sunny Goa, as everywhere else in India, the towns are all a MESS. No tourist lives in Madgaon, or Panjim, or Mapusa. Tourists just laze around on the beaches, being served whatever they want by the owners of these "beach shacks," and then, very late in the night, they retire to their "coco huts." And these "coco huts" are all FUCKING HORRIBLE. At least I would never like to live in one, with their PUBLIC TOILETS and all that.


But Boom Shankar was GREAT!


Big chillums, some MDMA, fantastic Mojitos, great STEAKS, and the fabulous, and extremely cheap, LOCAL BEER of Goa, called "King's," always served chilled.


But here in Pondicherry, you have a CITY. Tourists can stay in nice HOTELS. And you can extend Beach Road by 10 kilometres to the North, and also another ten kilometres to the South. And these poor vendors of today, with all their little UGLY carts, can all be owners of pretty "beach shacks."


And I am sure lots of tourists will surely come here, because this is the East Coast, this is "The Land of the Rising Sun," and the DAWN here is so BEAUTIFUL.


In Sunny Goa, there is NO DAWN.


In Sunny Goa, there is only the SUNSET.


And here in Pondicherry, even the MOON RISES OVER THE SEA.


What a FAR OUT sight.


So, get together your CIVIC PRIDE and CIVIC CONSCIOUNESS and get that Tarzan, the Ape Man, back HERE to do some "politics" - a word with its root in the word polis, which means "city." 

Here Comes The FINAL PONDICHERRY SPIKE: Take #4

Now, listen up, all you Pondicherrians. All equipped with your "natural religion" and your "natural honesty."


You need a LORD MAYOR.


And I will instruct you as to who should be entrusted with this very important civic office.


The man is MOH Farook.


He was Chief Minister when I lived here in the 1980s.


And he was a PROMINENT TRADER of this town.


I bought my refrigerator from his shop - a tiny Voltas fridge I still possess, and which still works. I also bought a 14" black-and-white TV set from his shop. And I never asked for any discount. Although I was then the third-most senior police officer here.


You see, I have always distrusted politicians. Especially those from the CONgress. And MOH Farook was a CONgressman. Which means he forgot all about The Prophet and his teachings. He forgot all about The Hadith. But he can reform himself, if he chooses.


Now, let me tell you why I distrust CONgressmen.


My father was a Bihar Civil Service officer, later promoted to the IAS. His entire career was FUCKED by CONgressmen. When he finally became DC of Palamau, he took the BOLD step of fucking the CONgressman whose constituency it was, who was then a Cabinet Minster in Indira Gandhi's cabinet. This man was Bhisham Narain Singh. His son, Prem, was a mafioso in the district. And my father had him locked up - and they threw away the keys. My father, and his SP, published a "Joint Report" on this "Minister's Mafia" in the Sunday magazine, which was then edited by MJ Akbar. It was a Cover Story. Bhisham Narain Singh was never a cabinet minister again. He was sent off as Governor of some far-off province or the other. But, still, he managed to FUCK my father, who was harassed endlessly by the CBI. This took a dreadful toll on his health - for he was born hypertensive. He died shortly afterwards, of a heart attack. He was just 56 then. He had not even retired. And I am 53 today, telling his story to you.


I therefore NEVER met MOH Farook socially.


Yet, I did have an interesting interaction with him officially. This was as follows:


As  I told you, every single night, and very late, that too, I used to walk up and down Beach Road, accompanied my dog, who was never on a leash. She was a German dog - a BOXER - very ugly and very unfriendly-looking. But she adored me, and I simply adored her.


On one of these nights, I found a whole bunch of rowdies drinking beer and creating a big ruckus there on Beach Road. So I went to the Police Headquarters nearby and instructed the security guard there to "keep a watch" on these jokers. But this stupid security guard overreacted - and the entire Pondicherry Police moved in full swing, with their French hats and all, and arrested all these jokers and locked them up, and then they threw away the key. 


Now, these jokers were all law students from Madras - and they immediately "politicised" the whole thing. 


The next day, the entire Law College of Pondicherry staged a protest march, right up to the Chief Minister's office. In fact, The Hindu published a report on this, against me, titled "High-Handedness of High-Ranking Police Officer."


And so, I went, in full uniform, carrying my OFFICIAL GUN, fully loaded, on my PRIVATE motorcycle, a 350cc Bullet, to MOH Farook's office.


He told me: 

"No one must be forbidden from drinking in public in Pondicherry."

He told me to apologise to these jokers.


This was my one and only interaction with MOH Farook - and it was entirely "official."


So, I then went to meet the Chief Secretary of Pondicherry, a Mizo IAS officer by the name of Pahnuna, in full uniform, carrying my OFFICIAL GUN, fully loaded, riding my PRIVATE 350cc Bullet motorcycle.


Allow me to say something about this PRIVATE motorcycle of mine, this 350cc BULLET. Its PETROL TANK never saw even a tiny drop of tax-payer's petrol. Its PETROL TANK was always filled at a PRIVATE petrol pump, and I always paid for this petrol out of my official salary. No Police Department mechanic ever touched my motorcycle, and I maintained it entirely myself, because I happen to know something about "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance."  I am an EXCELLENT MOTORCYCLIST. I am an EXCELLENT DRIVER. And, while in Pondicherry, I also acquired a HEAVY VEHICLE DRIVING LICENCE, by passing all the mandatory tests of the RTO here. I can drive trucks. I can drive buses, too.


Anyway, to get back to my story, the Chief Secretary of Pondicherry, this MIZO IAS officer by the name of Pahnuna, also asked me to apologise to these jokers.


But I did no such thing.


I called all these jokers to a meeting in Police Headquarters, which I chaired. At the end, these jokers apologised to me for having "politicised" the whole affair.


There is a LESSON in this. 


Henry II was WHIPPED for the murder of Beckett by some fucked-up Papists in Canterbury Cathedral, because some of his knights over-reacted to his remarks on Beckett. But Henry II was an EXCELLENT KING. He was the "founder of the common law." He was always on horseback, travelling all over his vast domains, which included parts of France, for he was an "Anjevin," with all his records, collecting his taxes, and settling all disputes. Yet, history treats him as a culprit, because of this "Murder in the Cathedral," which occurred only because of his over-zealous knights. In any case, Beckett was an asshole. A fuckin' Papist.


And so it was with me. I just told a security guard to "keep a watch" on some jokers - and these stupid fuckers over-reacted.


But, I do think MOH Farook was an EXCELLENT Chief Minister.


Which Chief Minister today, anywhere in this entire sub-continent, would order his policemen to allow public drinking of alcohol?


And let us never forget that MOH Farook is a MUSLIM - and Muslims are NOT supposed to drink alcohol. So MOH Farook is NOT like these Taliban fuckers. He is most certainly a VERY GOOD MAN. He truly believes in FREEDOM - for all.


And it is therefore MOH Farook who should be appointed LORD MAYOR of PONDICHERRY.


Of course, he must quit the CONgress.


And he should stick to the VOCATION of The Prophet, which is TRADE, and that is something MOH Farook is very good at, being the proud owner of many old, established, and good shops in this fair city.


I have already told you all you need to know about the Lord Mayor of London yesterday. 


MOH Farook should follow these PRINCIPLES, and lift up the Civic Sword.


And as for me, I am on my way out of Pondicherry. 


I am now proceeding on a James Dean Holiday - which will soon begin in Munich, in Bavaria, where they have "beer gardens."


There will be no posts till this James Dean Holiday begins.


Goodbye.


And Good Luck.


May God bless all of you.


Masha Allah. Subhan Allah. Bismillah. Inshallah. 


And Boom Shankar, too.


In conclusion, I would like to add something on what "Allah ho Akbar" means. It means "God is Great." It does NOT mean "Man is Great." Islam means "submission" - to the Will of Allah. It also means that you do NOT submit to the arbitrary will of any MAN.


In terms of Economics, what Islam means is just this: 

If you make a profit, you say Masha Allah or even Subhan Allah. 

And if you make a loss you say Inshallah - and change your business.

Allah ho Akbar.

Here Comes Another PONDICHERRY SPIKE: Take #2

:

My "intellectual journey" then took me to The London School of Economics & Political Science - not to study Economics - but especially to study Comparative Local Government. I was a student of The Department of Government there.


Let me tell you something about this institution. It is situated in the heart of the city, in an area known as Aldwych. The LSE proper is just a few buildings off a pedestrianised street called Houghton Street. There is no "campus." Opposite is Bush House, the headquarters of the BBC. Across that is India House, which used to be the headquarters of the Honourable East India Company, and where now the Indian High Commissioner to Britain sits, giving plenty trouble to all Brits who want visas to come here. He charges them plenty, too.


Now, the LSE's Department of Government is situated on another narrow lane off Houghton Street, in a small, old building called "The King's Chambers." There is an old pub alongside. And right across is "The Olde Curiosity Shoppe."


It surely was nothing but "curiosity" that took me there. But I learnt NOTHING of any substance there. My tutor was a MARXIST! He handed me a book he had authored on "The Asiatic Mode Of Production." I threw it away after reading a few pages.


And as for my professor of local government, George Jones, he taught me NOTHING about Mayors at all, and certainly not anything about The Lord Mayor of the Olde City of London. I studied everything on my own, much later, and I am most grateful to The British Council Library in Nude Elly for providing me all the necessary books. My first book, Antidote: Essays AGAINST The Socialist Indian State, which was published by Macmillan India in the year 2000, which was reprinted thrice in hardcover the same year, and a paperback then followed, acknowledges my debt to The British Council Library.


I have plans to BUY this building, "The Kings Chambers," from the LSE someday soon, and make it my official residence in this wonderful, old, city, breathing with History. I will live there whenever I am in London. I will BUY "The Economist Bookshop" situated alongside - and let Lew Rockwell sell all his good books there. I will also BUY The Sherlock Holmes Pub - and be a beer merchant. In this Ancient Pub, situated next to the Royal Commonwealth Club as well as the Headquarters of Great Scotland Yard, I will peddle Indian Ganja and Charas. So help me, God.


Now, let me tell you something more about this horrible institution, the LSE, where both Hayek as well as Peter Bauer were eminent professors. This is a Socialist Institution, set up by Sidney and Beatrice Webb, and all their Fabian Socialist friends. They were truly HORRIBLE people, Sidney as well as his wife Beatrice. Sidney dreamed of UNIVERSAL MUNICIPALISATION. This was Fabianism - named after Fabius, the Cunctator, a Roman General who won over his enemies by avoiding direct combat. The Fabians did not want to take over the whole State; but they wanted municipalities to control everything. And as for Beatrice, she was the daughter of an extremely rich merchant - but she hated her own father, for his wealth and his success, and campaigned for the end of all merchants. Sidney and Beatrice Webb particularly hated the Olde City of London and its Lord Mayor, since this City is the Epicentre of British "John Bull" Capitalism. They condemned what they called the "dull and dreary Aldermanic Bench." Their visions of universal municipalisation were something entirely different: Totalitarian Municipalities.


The Directors of the LSE, throughout its history, have all been assholes. Prominent among them is Lord William Beveridge, who created, in Britain, "The Welfare State." The British National Health Service (NHS) is the world's third largest employer, after the Chinese Red Army and the Indian Railways. And the Brits are "rationed" this universal healthcare - so, if you are over 70 and you need dialysis, you are left to die, and someone younger is given the treatment instead.


In my time, our very own IG Patel was Director, a former Governor of the RBI and also a former Director of IIM-Ahmedabad. It was he who wrote Indira Gandhi's speech justifying the nationalisation of banks. He wrote this because he was too chicken to resign and oppose the move. He was certainly no BR Shenoy, who was both a hero as well as a saint, and wrote a Note of Dissent to Nehru's Second Five-Year Plan. IG Patel has written an article in Meghnad Desai's book on "Global Governance" calling for a stronger IMF. Desai is a Labour Party peer. Both Desai as well as Patel are FARTS. Smelly ones, too. The "strong and silent" type of farts which REAL MEN do not make. REAL MEN issue THUNDEROUS FARTS - and there is NO SMELL at all.


Later Directors of the LSE include a moron called Anthony Giddens, who raved and ranted about a "Third Way." He was a "sociologist." And all sociologists are COMPLETE MORONS. Giddens was a Labour Party man - and almost the ENTIRE FACULTY of the LSE are Labour Party propagandists.


Hayek was not even a Conservative Party propagandist. Although Margaret Thatcher admired his works very much, Hayek wrote "Why I am NOT A Conservative." And as for Peter Bauer, whom Thatcher elevated to the House of Lords, if you read his maiden speech in that august assembly, it sounds like someone who simply hates and detests the British Welfare - and "Nanny" - State.


Now, let me tell you something about Mayors.


The first Mayors of the world came from FRANCE - and we are all in a "little Gaulish village" here in Pondicherry. Our Chief is indeed VITALSTATISTIX - for he is forever counting numbers. And I must be Obelix, for I fell into Getafix's Magic Potion as a child, and therefore have extraordinary physical strength, which I use to carry a HUGE STONE MENHIR around everywhere I go. As I said, I have THRICE visited Vailankanni to drink the Holy Water of Good Health at the Church there.


The first Mayors of the world came from the City of Rouen in France, where the local merchants elected a leader to look after their civic affairs and gave him that title. Some of these merchants from Rouen later settled in the Olde City of London - and that is how this word reached England. All over France, and all over England, there are these friendly, portly, rich men who look after civic affairs. But, of them all, the Lord Mayor of the Olde City of London is the most steeped in History, and has preserved all its Traditions. One of these Ancient Traditions is as follows:


Whenever the King of England visits this Olde City (for he lives in the City of Westminster) the Lord Mayor greets him at the entrance, and there "surrenders the Civic Sword." This is The Pearl Sword - and the King gently touches the hilt in acceptance. It has great meaning, this Ancient Tradition. Think over it - deeply.


It is an Ancient Tradition that the King of England CANNOT march his Army through this Olde City without the express permission of the Lord Mayor.


The Lord Mayor upholds the Civic Sword within this Olde City - and keeps the King of England OUT.


In the Olde Days, it was said that "the people of London want no other King but their Lord Mayor."


The Lord Mayor was never a bully; he never made rules for the people; and he never ever took any salary. Indeed, Lord Mayors lost money by taking on this responsibility, because while they managed civic affairs, they were unable to "mind their own business." Their own businesses suffered. Further, the Lord Mayor had the "civic duty" of astounding the King of England with his Wealth - and had to throw lavish banquets regularly at his own expense, for both the King and his Court, as well as for visiting foreign dignitaries. Many of those who were elected to this office chose to opt out - and they were heavily fined. It is said of Mansion House, the official residence of the Lord Mayor of London, that it was "built for those who wanted to be Lord Mayor at the expense of those who did not."


But there have been many legendary Lord Mayors. I told you earlier of John Wilkes. Dick Whittington has gone down in legend - and he is the only man who was Lord Mayor thrice. He donated almost his entire wealth to the City. It was a Lord Mayor of London who built the school in Stratford-upon-Avon where Shakespeare studied. It was the widow of a Lord Mayor who established Radcliffe College in the USSA.


The Olde City of London is all about "civic independence." The "Bobby" of the London Metropolitan Police is NOT allowed within the Olde City. Here, the Lord Mayor has his own police force. This was set up AFTER Robert Peel had established his Bobbies. Till then, there were NO COPS anywhere in London.


Further, the title "LORD" was never given to the Lord Mayor by the King, through any Royal Letters Patent. This title is traditional, too. It was given by the citizenry to their Mayor. He must be always addressed as "My Lord Mayor" - even by his own wife, at least in public.


The Lord Mayor of the Olde City of London is traditionally "second only to the King of England" in the official protocol. This tradition dates back to when Henry V - the "Good Prince Harry" - was setting off to fight the French at Agincourt with all his longbowmen. He had no money, poor Prince Harry - and so pawned off all his jewels with the Lord Mayor. Thus, at the farewell ceremony, this Lord Mayor sat on the immediate right of Henry V. And the rest, as they say, is History. This great institution, this HONEST CIVIC CORPORATION, is over 800 years old, older than the Magna Carta. There has never been ANY SCANDAL in this honest civic corporation. Except in the Goldsmith's Company - where there were those corrupt fuckers who set up the Bank of England, and there were the honest few who opposed them. It is an Ancient Tradition of the Olde City of London's Worshipful Company of Goldsmiths that an annual event is held to "test the coinage." This annual event is still held - but the Lord Mayor does NOT attend. CORRUPTION!


That's my Lesson for the Day.